Sugar Me Sweet Chapter 12

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"Where's that damn waitress of yours?" Frankie demanded thumping his fist on the bar, but the look in his eyes suggested he knew damn well where she was.

Jamie, the barman, cringed and nodded. "I'll go get her Frankie, it's no trouble." Before he could step back Frankie reached over the bar and grabbed him by his shirt.

"You do that. And then I want you to close up for the night." He dragged the poor frightened bartender closer, breathing alcoholic fumes over him as he whispered menacingly "You go home and you don't look back, ya hear?"

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Dean didn't bother hesitating this time; every instinct screamed at him to get the lid open now!

He all but threw back the lid, saw what looked suspiciously like his brother's tangled mop of brown hair and yanked away a nasty smelling rug.

To reveal a very pale, badly bleeding and unconscious Sam.

"Shit!"



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Dean had been awake most of the night apart from the odd doze. Checking Sam's glucose levels every half hour, he'd been dismayed to see them slipping; each time Dean popped fresh candy into Sam's mouth, and when he ran out he resorted to force-feeding his unconscious brother heavy glucose drinks. Dean really had no idea what was going on and ended up calling Sam's doctor, Adrian Johnson, for advice. After apologising for calling at such an unsociable hour he explained the situation, and when the conversation was over Dean was about ready to kill his brother.

Alcohol.

The damn tequila Sam knocked back that evening was responsible for his current mild hypoglycaemia. In fact, Dean strongly suspected that when he first caught up with his little brother in that grimy dumpster, his hypoglycaemia was somewhat more serious than mild. But Adrian assured him that as the alcohol made its way out of Sam's bloodstream his glucose levels would revert to normal; all Dean had to do was keep monitoring the situation and feed his brother either sugar or insulin as circumstances dictated. Just in case, the doc offered to swing by; apparently he was only a couple of towns over, but Dean put him off. It was a dangerous town and he didn't want another of Sam's doctors to bite the dust on their account. Sam felt guilty enough over Harry's death as it was. Instead he agreed to call him and arrange to meet in the next town should anything go wrong.

Whatever happened, Dean was certain that Sam was to face one mean mother and father of a hangover when he finally awoke. And that would serve him right as far as Dean was concerned. The little shit should've known better and from what his doctor said, Sam did know better than to do something so reckless. Apparently they'd discussed diets and excesses a few months back. Sam, worried about how much beer in one session was considered too much, had asked about alcohol and diabetes and been told that everything in moderation was fine, but that excess alcohol consumption could lower his blood glucose to dangerous levels.

"And when exactly were you gonna fill me in on that little morsel, huh Sam?" Dean hissed at his sleeping brother. He could've kicked himself for not knowing something like that, especially after all the medical research he'd done when Sam first became ill from diabetes. Dean hadn't known Sam was diabetic at the time, but found out the hard way just after their father died, and, at the end of a hunt, Sam quite literally dropped into a diabetic coma. Sam had been keeping secrets from Dean back then, and it seemed nothing had changed on that front.

Sam frowned and moaned softly in his sleep, shifting slightly on the bed as if in discomfort. Dean's expression softened a little. He shouldn't be too hard on the kid, he supposed. Finding out your own father once regarded you as the next Pol Pot couldn't have been easy to deal with, especially when Sam had spent most of his young life at odds with the guy.

The next readout showed that Sam's glucose levels had indeed stabilised, and Dean allowed himself to fall into a fitful sleep.

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A loud knocking had Dean leaping up, grabbing his gun and standing by the door, anxious to put himself between whatever threat may be lurking outside and his wounded brother. He cracked open the door and stiffened in amazement. Dean recognised him as the young guy he'd seen tending the bar with Maria earlier that night.

"Jamie? What you doin' here? And what the hell happened to your face?"

Jamie glanced around nervously, his badly bruised eyes squinting at the street behind him, before facing Dean again. "Can we talk? Please?"

Dean didn't move, just stared at him. "Why? What's happened? Maria ok?"

Jamie seemed to sag at hearing his waitress's name. "She's dead. Frankie saw her talkin' to you, told me to bring her in and close up the bar. I thought he was just gonna fire her or just scare her maybe, but I didn't expect...that's when..." He shuddered, fighting back tears. "That's when he beat her to death with a pool cue. And when I tried to stop him, his goons started on me."

Now that he mentioned it, Dean noticed that the poor kid had trouble standing and seemed to be clutching at his ribs. "You'd better come in," Dean told him, probably against his better judgment.

Jamie limped through the door and nearly stumbled until Dean grabbed his arm and helped him to the one and only motel room chair. The one by Sam's bed. The visitor stared at the occupant of the bed wide eyed, then turned to Dean.

"My brother," Dean explained reluctantly. "It seems Maria aint the only one that pissed off Frankie tonight."



Jamie glanced back at Sam worriedly. "So he's the guy they all went looking for. Word has it Tony stabbed him." He lowered his gaze to Sam's bandaged shoulder, then turned back to Dean. "He gonna be ok?"

Dean, eyes narrowed, studied the kid for such a long time that Jamie shifted nervously in his seat. Eventually his assessor nodded slightly. Dean didn't trust anyone other than Sam, especially when it was Sam's life at stake, but he was pretty sure the bar manager's concern was genuine, and was still in shock at seeing one of his friends and employees battered to death.

"I managed to stop the bleeding and stabilise his glucose levels." At Jamie's questioning gaze he added. "Sam's diabetic. Though not too many people know that..." Dean's voice trailed off pointedly with a slight dip to his head, and Jamie understood. It had better stay that way.

"Uh...sure." Jamie glanced around the room. "Shouldn't you two be heading out? Frankie won't stop 'til he finds you and Sam. Once his mind's made up about someone he never stops. That's why I'm here, to warn you."

Dean folded his arms. That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. He had planned on dragging Sam out of this shit hole of a town and taking him to safety, but his brother still wasn't up to travelling and now he felt responsible for Maria's death. The waitress had flirted with him in a side doorway of the bar during her break, and pretty much told Dean where to find his wayward, and as it turned out drunken little brother. She'd also warned him that the guys Dean had hustled earlier were after Sam, determined to punish him for the money they lost at pool. Clearly, they'd been watched and Maria had paid the ultimate price. Jamie, is seemed, hadn't gotten off so lightly either.



Feeling that he perhaps owed them one, so to speak, Dean made up his mind.

"I want you to stay here and keep an eye on my brother. No one comes through that door unless it's me. Ya hear?" Dean loomed over the young bar manager.

"Uh...yeah I hear you. I promise, no one gets to your brother." Jamie swallowed again on seeing the fierce determination in Dean's eyes.

Dean pulled out the glucometer. "You know how to work one of these?" At Jamie's hesitant head shake, he grabbed Sam's lifeless hand. "I want you to keep an eye on Sam's blood sugar levels. Prick his finger, let the blood well up then use the test strip on it. You don't need much so don't go bleedin' him dry. Then insert the strip here in the monitor. After a while it'll bleep and the readout will tell ya how Sam's doin'." Dean handed it over. "If his levels go too high or too low, you call me. Ok?"

Jamie stared at the tiny meter. He wasn't sure about this; having seen enough blood spilt in one night to last a life time, he wasn't certain he could deliberately hurt someone, even therapeutically.

"He won't feel it." Dean added quietly, as though reading the kid's mind, "and besides, Sam's use to this."

Taking a deep breath, the young bar manager smiled shakily. "Ok. I can do it."

"Good boy."

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Dean gathered a few essential items from the trunk of the Impala in preparation for his...activities. What he'd rather be doing was bundling his little brother into the back seat and having it away down the road towards the nearest hospital. But someone had died tonight helping him, and young Jamie was now putting his own life at risk for the same reason. Dean had wondered briefly about finding another motel, but decided against it. He was reluctant to move Sam right now, and in a small town like this any such antics at that time of the morning would be spotted and suspicions immediately aroused. He needed to act quickly though, before Frankie came knocking at their door, and he would before long. Leaving town would prove downright tricky under the watchful eyes of Frankie's men, and Dean didn't want to leave Sam alone with a virtual stranger for longer than necessary.

It didn't take Dean long to find them. He figured they'd head back to the bar until morning. Some of those guys looked like the 'drinking the night away' types, and sure enough he found them playing poker in the back room, while the rest of the building was shrouded in darkness.

He started by picking the lock at the front entrance, as far away from the poker game as possible. Once the door was unlocked Dean didn't go in, just moved silently along the outer wall until he came to one of the cobweb infested windows that showed four men seated at a green felt covered table, and two standing by the main entrance to the room. With a tiny squelch Dean sealed the window shut with a highly powerful industrial strength gel adhesive, before moving back to the other side of the building and performing the same action. Then he headed for the rear exit which led straight into the poker room, and sealed it shut from the outside. Dean grinned as he melted silently away into the shadows.

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Tony, who was still grumbling about his aching head, suddenly looked round at one of the windows. "You hear that?" He asked aloud, but no one paid him any attention. Tony shrugged, thinking he was imagining things. He'd been pretty jumpy since he attacked that drunken kid out on the street. The little bastard was tough; Tony had to hand it to him. With his bloodstream loaded with an entire bottle of Gold and a knife in his shoulder, the young guy had still managed to floor 'im.

But now Frankie wanted him dead, and the older brother. Even Tony couldn't really understand it. The brothers were obviously drifters, moving from place to place, never putting down roots. Chances were they'd never set foot in this town again, why did it matter? But Frankie wasn't the type to forget an insult, and being hustled by some punk in his own bar was definitely considered an insult. To top it off the guy's younger brother had the nerve to show up later in the night, swaggering in like he owned the damn place, and gets himself drunk. Like he had a death wish or something.

It was a shame about Maria though. Tony thought she was hot, not to mention made the best enchiladas he'd ever tasted. But Maria had known the rules. Do the job, take home your pay, don't ask questions. Don't interfere. Hell, even the town Mayor knew better than to stand in the way of Frankie, and the local politicians were considered dumb even by Tony's standards.



So the only one left behind the bar was Jamie, and Frankie had sent him home. At least he thought he had. It was unfortunate the kid stuck around long enough to witness Maria's punishment, and had even earned himself a good beating.

Tony suddenly sat up straight. There was that noise again. Nothing obvious just the sound of someone being stealthy, and it was coming from the back entrance this time. He stood, made his way over and listened with his ear close to the door. He frowned at the faint squelching noise, as though some sticky liquid was being squirted into the cracks between the door and the frame. When it stopped Tony carried on listening for a few minutes, but was met with silence. He tried the door but it was locked, so he tried to turn the key and it wouldn't budge, as though it had been cemented into the lock, with no hope of ever moving.

Backing away Tony called over his shoulder, "Hey guys-," he was interrupted when a lock clicked behind him. The muscle guarding the main door turned in wary puzzlement and one of them tested the handle. "Boss? These doors are locked."

Frankie frowned in annoyance. "What the fuck ya want me to do about it? Cry? Get the damn keys!"

"Uh, Boss?" This was Tony, and he sounded a little scared as he turned to face Frankie. "So's the back doors. We're trapped." This was confirmed by an animalistic grunt from one of the guards as he tried to turn the key in the lock.

The room went silent as Frankie strode to the door in exasperation. But his henchmen were right. The door wouldn't budge. When he placed his ear to the door, he could hear a strange glugging, as though someone was pouring liquid from a bottle. Several bottles in fact. It was followed by the smashing of glass, then silence.

All men, guards and poker players alike stared at each other in wary bewilderment.

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Dean watched in grim satisfaction from a safe distance as the building exploded in a loud whoomph. Flames shot skywards and eventually the sound caught up, mushrooming with the smoke, and even from where he stood, stumbling back against the wall from the aftershock, Dean could smell the burning liquor he'd liberally spread round the main bar area, imagined it evaporating violently in the heat leaving the sugar to caramelise and burn. He hadn't really intended to go through with it, only wanting to scare them into confessing and leaving town, but when he found Maria's mutilated and beaten body, left lying carelessly on the floor next to the pool table like a discarded rag doll, his temper got the better off him.

Dean knew enough to make the explosions look like an unfortunate accident, sealing the doors and locks shut with glue that would soon melt to nothing as the hot flames raged. But he couldn't bring himself to leave Maria there, not when she deserved better. So he decided to leave her body lying outside the main doors to the local ER, covered in a soft blanket. At least that way, her death wouldn't go unnoticed; she wouldn't be just another poor unfortunate that disappeared off the map.

He felt his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket and snapped it open, eyes not leaving the road. "Sam ok?"

There was a pause. "I think you'd better come now." Jamie's voice shook with worry. "Sam's glucose levels..."

"It's ok, just give him one of the drinks..." Dean began soothingly.

"No, you don't understand! He's glucose levels have shot up and he's having trouble breathing!" Jamie virtually screamed in panic down the phone. "I don't know what to do..."

Dean felt like panicking himself. "Has he got a fever? Jamie!" Dean barked out when the kid carried on rambling. "Check his temperature! There's a thermometer in the first aid kit."

There came a scuffling noise and a few heartbeats later another bleep, though a different tone from the glucose meter.

"Uh...102.8." Jamie recited. "And Climbing!"

Shit! "It's ok Jamie, I'm not far out. On my way." Dean snapped the phone shut and put his foot down.

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Minutes later, Dean hammered on the door as loudly as he dared and it soon swung open to reveal an extremely anxious Jamie. Dean shouldered his way in asking abrupt questions and heading straight for his brother.

"Any change?"

"Nah. In fact I think he's gotten worse."

"Has he spoken?"

"He asked where you were, then he said something about a 'Jess'?" Jamie shook his head worriedly, watching as Dean laid a hand, palm up on Sam's forehead.

Dean stiffened a little on hearing the name of Sam's dead girlfriend on the lips of a stranger, but wisely said nothing.

"Hey Sam, can ya hear me buddy? I'm back." Dean frowned when he got no answer. He turned his hand and ran it down Sam's cheek to cup his jaw. Sam's fever was raging out of control but at the same time he was shivering violently, the bandage crossing his otherwise bare chest was drenched in perspiration. Dean turned to Jamie. "Can you do me another favour and go grab some water? I need to get some fluids into him."

Sam whimpered loudly and tried to flinch away when Dean raised the bandages and gauze to examine the knife wound.

"Easy Sammy." Dean bit his lip to keep his reaction quiet. The puncture wound was red and inflamed with traces of pus leaking through the sutures, and angry looking red lines snaked outwards from the epicentre. Blood poisoning. No wonder Sam's glucose levels were out of control. Dean reached out to the nightstand and grabbed the insulin pack. As he was administering another dose Jamie returned with a large bottle of water. Dean gently cradled Sam's head with one hand whilst pouring some of the cool liquid into his mouth. Sam didn't even fight him, instead gulping it eagerly like a man lost in a desert, some of spilling over and running down his chin. Small grunts, gasps and groans continued to fill the quiet of the room, a weird musical accompaniment to the ailing younger brother.

Spotting the bowl of water next to the bed with a wash cloth floating round in it, Dean glanced up at Jamie gratefully. The kid had been trying to keep Sam cool but at this stage it wasn't going to be enough; he pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial for the second time that night.

As he waited for Adrian to pick up – it was the early hours after all – Dean heard a soft, pained and broken whisper.

"D...Dean?"

Still keeping his cell firm tucked firmly to his ear, Dean reached out his other hand and grasped his brother's. Smiling into confused blue-green eyes, over-bright with fever, he almost sobbed out loud. Instead he blinked back the threatening tears and put on his best ever Game Face yet.

"I'm here Sammy. You're gonna be ok."

"Where's...D- Dad?"

"He's not here right now kiddo. It's just you and me." Dean tripped over that one as lightly as he could, but inside his heart was pounding painfully. Adrian chose that moment to answer the call just as Sam's eyes slid shut again, apparently weary from the brief exchange.

The phone call didn't last long. Sam's doctor had been insistent on coming out to them, fearing for Sam's life if he should be moved without proper medical assistance, but Dean soon explained their predicament without going into too much detail and Adrian agreed to meet them on the outskirts of town.

Jamie had been hovering, not really sure what was expected of him. He shifted from foot to foot nervously as Dean moved round the room packing duffle bags, dismantling weapons and checking that they hadn't left anything behind.

"Uh..." Jamie finally spoke up when Dean began to wipe down surfaces and door handles, as though...as though... "Is there something I should know?"

Dean turned round to stare at him. "Yeah. Start lookin' for another job." The noise of fire trucks screaming by seemed to emphasize his point, and Jamie's eyes widened.

"You didn't..."

"I left Maria's body outside the local ER." Dean added quietly, refusing to go into any further detail. "Make sure she gets a decent funeral if nothing else."

As another silence stretched out and Sam started fretting, Jamie spoke up again. "You guys should get going. I can finish up here."

Dean thought for a moment, wondering if the kid knew what he was getting into. "You sure 'bout this? I can't risk any trace of us being left behind, no blood, no fingerprints, nothin'."

"Hey! I worked for Frankie as his bar manager the last four years; I think I can handle it." He shrugged and shuffled his feet again, clearly burning to ask another question. "Do I wanna know what happened to him tonight? Frankie, I mean."

Dean smirked humourlessly. "Least you hear from me the better. In any case, the whole town will find out soon enough."

Jamie nodded. "You wanna hand getting your brother to the car?" At Dean's nod, the two of them gently leaned down.

"On three, ready?" Dean had threaded an arm under Sam's back, pulling him into a sitting position, his brother's whimpers of pain cutting him deep. "One...Two...THREE!"



Between Dean and Jamie Sam was forced to his feet, whereupon his knees gave out and he slumped in their grip, moaning softly.

"Come on little bro. Help us out here." Dean muttered in Sam's ear as he pulled him out of the motel room. "Jamie? Open the car doors. Let's get him on the back seat." He held Sam up whilst the former bar manager complied before helping Dean to get his brother settled. Sam was soon swaddled in blankets with Dean's leather jacket placed under his head as a pillow. With a final stroke of Sam's hair a few whispered words of reassurance, Dean stepped back and closed the rear passenger door.

It wasn't often Dean found himself needing to thank a civilian for their help and he found it more than a little awkward. "Uh...thanks. For looking after Sam and..." he leaned against the car. "What'll you tell them?"

Jamie smiled sadly. He knew who Dean was referring to. "I'm a...was a bar manager. I'll think of something." Gently tapping the roof of the Impala he nodded one last time. "You'd better get going before the cops start sniffin' round."

And that was Dean's last image of him in the review mirror. The young barman, who'd been intimidated and bullied along with the rest of his community, was leaning heavily against the doorframe of the motel room watching them leave. Jamie had felt compelled to stand up for himself and his friend tonight, and paid a heavy price for it. He'd lost his job, Maria was dead, and he'd been badly beaten.

Yeah. Not too much incentive for doing the right thing! And Dean instantly rejected that thought as bullshit. The town was free from Frankie's cruel and ruthless tyranny, and maybe the people could pick themselves up and gradually learn to put things right.

In the meantime, Dean still had his own battles to fight. One very sick and injured little brother for a start, and Dean was fairly convinced Sam wasn't going to make it easy on him.

Hearing Sam's small fevered cries of pain and anguish Dean, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, reached over with the seat, gently grasping the back of Sam's neck. He winced at the heat.

"Easy kiddo. Doc Johnson's waiting for us and he's gonna get you all fixed up." He sighed a little. "Things will get better Sam. Just give it time."

He sped off towards their next and most vital destination, foot perched firmly over the throttle, breaking all known speed limits and not caring in the slightest.

Not while his little brother's soft whimpers and gasps reached his ears.

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Author's notes:

This was rather a weird chapter to write and it took me weeks to eventually finish it, so I hope you all enjoyed it.

Many thanks for all your kind reviews so far.

Until the next time..,

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.